


over the rainbow

by whoknowswhereweare



Category: The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: Wizard of Oz AU, i was watching the wizard of oz and like.... i couldn't not do this, thats basically it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-14 19:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14775671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoknowswhereweare/pseuds/whoknowswhereweare
Summary: There's a land, somewhere far away from the Texas plains, where people come and go by clam shell, where farmhands become scarecrows and tin men and humanoid lions, where cranky neighbors become something much more sinister, where traveling penny-pinchers are all-powerful deity, where red cowboy boots are top-dollar currency, and where one long stretch of yellow road can take you any place you want to go, so long as you know how to get there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so! a couple of things:  
> 1) i took down my little mermaid au for the time being, because i was trying to write the next chapter for it but it just wasn't working. i promise i'll repost it and update it (and the other fic) regularly after graduation/school ends.  
> 2) i'm sorry if the formatting is a little weird, but i wrote it in google drive and copy-pasted it and i think it came out a little funny. I'll try and fix it tomorrow but it's 1:30 in the morning rn and i gotta get to bed.  
> 3) i am 100% most definitely back on my bullshit with this one. please forgive me and enjoy.

The plains of Texas were flat and expansive; laid out around the farm like a million vast miles at the edge of the universe. Turn facing West, the only things to see were the waving wheat, the wire fences separating one plot of land from the next, and whatever cattle may be grazing or whatever birds may have landed in the fields. To the East, the same thing, only punctuated by the farm, pigpens and chicken coops and the house, old and rickety as anything. More than once it had gone under remodelling, but the wood framework of the original house remained, leaving the structure tilting and creaking in the strong winds that often ravaged the prairies during the summer.

 

Sandy sat on the fence that wrangled the pigs, swinging her bare legs in the breeze. The day was hot, and she could feel the rays of sun boring into her skin like needles. An arch of black clouds was beginning to crowd the horizon, blowing in from the distance like a foreboding symbol.

 

“C’mon,” Randy came up behind her, hauling a bucket of chicken feed in one hand, his toolkit in the other. “We gotta get the week’s work done before that storm blows in.” He took off his cap and wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, blowing out a low whistle. “Looks like it’s gonna be a good one.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Sandy hopped off the fence, ready to help.

 

“Take this and feed the chicks,” Randy handed the bucket to her, “There’re some new ones, just born a few days ago, and they’re gonna need to bulk up to get through this storm. I’m gonna go patch the roof on the barn.”

 

Her brother opened the gate and headed off down the dirt road, and she turned and hopped up into the chicken coop, feed in hand. The makeshift incubator for the new chicks was at the back of the little shed, and the wind whistled through the cracks in the wooden wall. Sandy shivered as she sprinkled some seed into the box; there was something in the air today, more than the scent of rain and thunder. 

 

“Um, Sandy?” A meek voice asked of her. She turned around to see the three farm hands her brother had employed; Bobby, Larry, and Patrick. Bobby held a picnic basket in his hands, and a long piece of fabric fluttered out of it. He had a hopeful, yet sheepish, look on his face, and Sandy knew they came seeking a favour.

 

“Hey fellas,” She set down her bucket and wiped her palms on the skirt of her gingham dress. “Whatcha got there?”

 

“I-it’s my dog, Gary.” Bobby explained. He lifted the lid of the basket to reveal a scruffy little brown dog. “I was hoping you might take him for a few days?”

 

“Why’s that?” Sandy asked, scratching the mutt’s head. He responded happily, rubbing his snout against her fingers.

 

“He got into Mr. Edward’s yard again.” Patrick said. “Tore up his marigolds. He threatened to call the Sheriff and have ol’ Gary here put down.”

 

“What? That’s terrible!” Sandy exclaimed, removing the dog from the basket and taking him in her arms. “Of course I’ll keep an eye on him.”

 

“Just for a few days, until we can get a license for him, get him tagged.” Larry assured. “They don’t have to answer to anyone if he’s not legally ours. He was a stray, but we never got him registered.”

 

“You’d really be doing us a favour.” Bobby said, though his plea had already been accepted.

 

Sandy and the dog split ways with the boys just outside the chicken coop, and she sat with Gary on her lap on a bale of hay, looking skywards. The thunderclouds were moving in faster now, almost on top of them entirely, and the faint outline of a rainbow was emerging behind them, following the rain. The little dog settled itself on her legs, shuffling into a comfortable position.

 

“What a world we live in, where someone can’t even forgive a poor little dog.” Sandy mused, brushing back it’s fur. “There’s got to be a better place. Somewhere… Somewhere out there.” She pointed towards the colourful arch of a rainbow following the storm clouds. “Somewhere where people aren’t so cruel.”

 

Gary seemed to perk up at this, raising his head and blinking up at her, before jumping off of her lap entirely and racing towards the open gate. He bounded towards the main road, towards town. 

 

“Wait!” Sandy cried, running after him, as fast as her legs could carry. For a small thing, the pup sure could run, as he led her off the road and down into a ditch, where he found refuge from the first few drops of rain under a caravan.

 

Sandy called the dog’s name a few times, crouching down to see him huddled in the wheel well. She grabbed him by his scruff and stood up, in the middle of admonishing him when she came face to face with a man.

 

“I’m sorry, sir.” She tried a polite one-armed curtsey, her Southern manners getting the better of her. “My dog ran away, see, and I-”

 

“Don’t fuss yer’ head about it, lass.” The man chuckled, clapping her on the shoulder. “No harm, no foul.”

 

“Oh, thank you for understanding.” She tightened her grip on Gary as she felt him trying to wiggle himself free again.

 

“Of course.” The man leaned down to scratch Gary’s snout. “Us runaways have to stick together.”

At that, Sandy observed the caravan that Gary had hidden under. Along the side,  _ Krabs’s Curiosities  _ was written in bright red paint. There were various little knobs and doors along the side, and a pink-and-white awning that stretched out over it, protecting it from the rain.

 

“The name’s Krabs. Eugene, if ye please.” The man introduced himself, holding out a big, meaty claw of a hand to be shaken. “Owner of  _ Krabs’s Curiosities,  _ the greatest peddler shop this side of the Rio Grande. See here,” he encouraged her to follow him to the side of the caravan, pulling a drawer open by one of the knobs. Inside, small trinkets- little bells, ribbons, cheap, shiny rings- rolled around. “These things go for five cents a pop. I sell ‘em for three, sell twice as many because the price is lower, but end up making more. Neat little angle, huh? What’s yer pleasure, missy?” He pulled open another drawer, this one longer and wider, and inside papers fluttered around in the breeze. Posters of different cities and towns along the Eastern seaboard, world maps, extravagantly detailed landscapes on shades of emerald and gold and sapphire.

 

“What’s this?” Sandy pulled out one of the smaller papers, a little postcard that nearly jumped out of her hand in the strengthening wind. It was a scene of a tiny little island in the middle of a blue ocean, with white sand and a single long palm tree curving over. Various shells and sea treasures littered the shore, and the blue sky was interspersed with fluffy white clouds that looked about as placid as could be. “Where is this from?”

 

“That one? Eh, I don’t quite remember.” Krabs admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “Somewhere up West, I’m sure.”

 

At that, a loud crash of thunder startled them both, and the rain began showering down with a vengeance. “I’d better get a move on.” Krabs threw the drawers shut and set to work at taking down the awning. “I reckon ye’d better get home, lass.”

 

“Here.” She offered the postcard back to him.

 

“Keep it.” Krabs waved her off, clearly more concerned with preserving his more valuable riches. “I’ll no doubt recoup however much that was worth in no time. Besides, I’m sure our paths will meet again.”

 

“I hope so.” Sandy yelled over the increasing storm sounds. “Thank you, Mr. Krabs! Safe travels!” She took off running towards home, setting Gary down to run alongside her. The dog no longer had any intention of running away; he stayed close to her ankles as they ran up the road to the house, bursting through the door as the first sign of a twister touched the ground.

 

“Randy? Boys?” She called through the empty house as the sounds of a tornado creeped closer and closer. “Anyone?”

 

Gary barked at the window, and Sandy saw that the twister was headed straight towards them. With no time to figure out another strategy, she ran into her room and hid under her bed, holding the dog with her to prevent him from getting hurt. The sounds were deafening, and she could feel the house groan and tremble against the force of the gales. It felt like the place might just lift off the foundations and fly away.

 

To Sandy’s amazement, that’s exactly what happened- just when the storm had reached its peak; when the rains were at their strongest and the wind at its most abusive, everything seemed to stop and the house felt like it was suspended in midair, just dancing along the eye of the storm. She pulled herself out from under her bed and peeked out the window. Everything was moving so fast, debris and birds and- wait, no, that's impossible. She swore she caught sight of Mr. Edward riding his recumbent bicycle through the air, unbothered.

 

The house suddenly dropped from the air and landed with a violent crash on the ground, knocking Sandy from her feet. The storm quickly moved away, as suddenly as it had appeared, and ribbons of sunlight peered through the window. Dazed, Sandy stood up, trying to make sense of what just happened.

 

Gary ran towards the front door, as if he was trying to alert her to something, barking and scratching like mad. She went over to him and picked him up, looking around the house to assess the damage- a few cracked picture frames, a couple of things here and there knocked off-kilter, but ultimately, nothing that couldn’t be fixed in an hour or so with some gumption. She opened the door to see what had happened to the barn and chicken coop, but stepped out into a world she didn’t recognize. This was not home; she had been dropped in some unfamiliar land, a place that at first glance was completely foreign to her.

 

“Gary, I don’t think we’re in Texas anymore.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, chapter 2! once again i think the formatting might be off because of the copy and paste, but that's a problem for another time.  
> next chapter we'll meet some boys, but in this chapter we establish setting and story. good ol' creative writing 101.

This new land seemed a polar opposite to the farmlands. Warm white sand replaced the grass and grains, and buildings that looked like they were made of metal pipes twisted upwards towards the ocean blue sky in every direction, every awkward angle. The dry shrubbery typical of the plains had been replaced with colourful coral reefs, and the entire place gave off the vibe of being someplace exotic. Sandy had landed in some kind of town square- or so she guessed, seeing as every storefront and building faced to the middle of where she was standing, and a spiral of cheerful yellow bricks blossomed out from the center. As she examined her new surroundings, she heard a chorus of excited chittering behind her, but when she turned to see the source, she found nobody.

 

Something in the sky caught her eye, floating towards her like a bubble. But it wasn’t a bubble; it appeared to be a shiny pink clam shell that grew larger and larger as it drew nearer. Once it was almost overtop of her, it opened up, and down floated a girl. She snapped her fingers and the clam shell disappeared into thin air.

 

“Now I know we’re not in Texas.” Sandy whispered to Gary.

 

The girl walked towards her, a soft, welcoming smile on her face. She had an air of regality to her, as she bore a bejeweled crown and staff. “Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?” She asked.

 

Once Sandy was sure that the girl was addressing her, she tried her best to respond. “Why, I’m not a witch at all. I’m Sandy Jennifer Cheeks, from Texas.”

 

The girl giggled, bubbly and child-like. She was clearly young, but had a sense on control over where she was. “Well, there must be some mistake. I’ve been called by the good people of this town because a house has been dropped on our resident bad witch. There’s the house,” She gestured to the wooden building that had previously been airborne, “and here you are.” She turned back to Sandy, looking expectant. When she received no further information, she waved her staff back in the direction of the house. “That’s all that’s left of the Wicked Witch of the East.” A pair of legs stuck out from under the porch, a pair of scarlet boots-  _ cowboy boots,  _ Sandy noted- the only thing left uncrushed.

 

“But I’ve already told you, I’m not a witch! Aren’t witches s’posed to be be old and ugly?” Sandy asked. At that, the chittering laughter began again, but she still could not locate where it was coming from. “What was that?”

 

“That would be the townsfolk, laughing at you.” The girl teased. “They’re laughing because  _ I  _ am a witch. I’m Pearl, the Witch of the North.” She used her free hand to pat her own hair, showing she knew how beautiful she was.

 

Deeply embarrassed, Sandy curtseyed. “I’m sorry! It’s just… I’ve never heard of a beautiful witch before.”

 

“Only bad witches are ugly, duh.” Pearl lolled her head and rolled her eyes playfully. 

 

“I see.” Sandy nodded. This was all getting a little more than confusing. “If you don’t mind me asking; where exactly are we?”

 

“You’re in Bikini Bottom, of course.” Pearl said, as if it were obvious. “And to the people who live here, you’re a hero.” She turned to face a non-existent crowd. “Alright, come on out! This lady has saved you all from the Witch of the East.”

 

Hesitantly, and one by one, people began emerging from their hiding places. These people were far different to the ones Sandy was used to, they wore extravagant, brightly coloured clothes and eccentric hairstyles. They gathered around where the two ladies stood, looking hopeful (if a little disturbed).

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your saviour.” Pearl held Sandy’s arm up like a boxer who had just won in the ring. “She fell from a star named Texas, and caused this miracle.”

 

“Miracle? Oh, no, it was an accident!” Sandy exclaimed. Why she was being celebrated for crushing someone beneath her house was beyond her. “There was a twister, ya see, and somehow, it… I don’t know, it must have been some kind of magic, but the house lifted clean off the foundation and blow me away- to here, I guess.”

 

A short, stout woman with blonde hair and a blue polka-dot dress that Sandy might have found tacky were she not so currently nonplussed approached, taking her hands. “Thank you kindly, miss.” She said. “You’ve made our streets safe again.”

 

Another woman, purple-haired and stripe-clad in violet, stepped up onto the lip of a fountain. “As mayor of Bikini Bottom, I hereby declare today a national holiday, in honour of our national hero…” She indicated for the ‘hero’ to introduce herself.

 

“Sandy.” 

 

“Sandy has saved up from our opressor, once and for all!” The mayor exclaimed, and the crowd erupted into cheers and hollers, as people danced with one another, embraced, and sang in joy.

 

The celebration halted when a violent puff of green smoke exploded from Sandy’s house, sending the merrymakers scattering for refuge. From the cloud emerged a man, turquoise in skin, sneering in the direction of Sandy and Pearl.

 

“I thought you said the Witch was dead.” Sandy said, trying to back away but bumping into Pearl instead.

 

“This is the Wicked Witch of the West. He’s worse than the other one.” Pearl exclaimed nonchalantly, as if this were an everyday occurance.

 

“What’s all this racket?” He demanded, furiously storming over. “What in the world is all this noise about?”

 

Pearl barred his way with her staff. “The Witch of the East has been defeated,” She said. “We’ve been celebrating.”

 

The Wicked Witch looked at the house, then at Sandy, who stuck out from the rest of the town like a sore thumb, and put two and two together. “So, it was you?” He accused, taking another menacing step forward. “You’re to blame for all this… This ruckus!”

 

“N-no, no, it was an accident! I didn’t mean to do a thing, I swear-” Sandy stuttered.

 

“An accident? Well, my dear, I can cause accidents too!” The Witch curled his lip, looking as if he were about to lunge and attack when Pearl calmly waved her hand dismissively.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” She mocked in a condescendingly calm tone. “The boots?”

 

The Witch turned back to the house, setting his sights on the cowboy boots that still remained on the deceased Witch’s feet. “Yes, the boots!” He cried. He hurried towards them, but just before he could get his hands on them, the shoes disappeared and the dead Witch’s legs shriveled up and shrunk beneath the house like dried leaves. 

 

“What have you done with them?” The Witch hissed at Pearl, “Give them back at once!”

 

“HA! Not a chance,” Pearl scoffed. “There they are.” She pointed to Sandy’s feet, which now somehow bore the boots. “And there they’ll stay.”

 

“Give them to me now,” The Witch said to Sandy through gritted teeth, though he did look more annoyed than anything else. “They’re of no use to you, only I know how to use them.”

 

“They’ve gotta be pretty powerful if he wants them that bad,” Pearl muttered to Sandy, “So you can’t take them off, not even for a second.”

 

“Stay out of this, child.” The Witch barked, but Pearl just laughed.

 

“This isn’t your territory, you have no power here. Now be gone, before someone drops a house on you, too.”

 

The Witch sensed he wasn’t getting anywhere, so he narrowed his eyes and slowly backed away. “Very well, I’ll bide my time. But I will get my hands on those boots, even if it’s the last thing I do.” He pointed a long, bony finger at Sandy. “If you don’t obey, well, I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!”

 

He stepped back and let out a nasally cackle, vanishing in a boom of fire and smoke. 

 

“Alright, he’s gone. You can all come on out again.” Pearl sang, and Sandy wondered how she could be so calm. “As for you, you’ve made a rather bad enemy of that nasty old Witch. I’d suggest you get out of Bikini Bottom as soon as you can, otherwise…” She made a slicing motion with her thumb across her neck.

 

“Well, I’d love to go back to Texas and get out of here, but how? I can’t really go back the way I came.”

 

“You’d probably do well to pay a visit to my father, The Wizard.” Pearl said. This earned mixed mutterings from the crowd.

 

“Well, is he good or bad? ‘Cause frankly, I’d rather not put up with other one of the type I just met.”

 

“Oh, he’s good, but can be a bit… Well, choosy with his grantings. But I’m sure that if you tell him who you are and what you’ve done for this town, he’ll send you home. He lives in Shell City, a long journey from here. Did you bring your broomstick?”

 

“I… No, I didn’t.”  _ You can only say you’re not a Witch so many times,  _ Sandy thought.

 

“Walking it is, then.” Pearl took Sandy’s hand and led her to the center of where the yellow spiral of bricks began. “Just follow this road, you’ll be there in no time. And remember, never let those shoes off your feet, even for a second. The Witch of the West will find any excuse to get you to take them off. Be vigilant, do not fall for his tricks.”

 

“Alright.” Sandy nodded. She set Gary down at her feet and examined the road- it circled out and around the town before leading off into a no-man’s land.

 

“Just follow the yellow brick road.” Pearl repeated, giving Sandy’s shoulders a light squeeze. Sandy began the path, though she felt a little silly with everyone’s eyes on her. Soon they began to cheer her on though, yelling out their well-wishes and thanks in a cheery tune. Feeling empowered by their celebrations, she began to skip down the road, Gary running to keep up with her.

 

She stopped at the border to wave goodbye to the citizens of the strange town called Bikini Bottom, then she and her pup companion continued down the road and through the hills until they were out of sight.


End file.
